


Danse Macabre

by Noir_Dix



Series: à la carte [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Dix just wants to help, Evil eye, F/M, Just A Dream, Other, hawt (literally), nosferatu mind games, southern satanic tent revival, trip through your wires, wanna be wit choo in da moonlight..., yard sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: 1. Weird2. Remember that old U2 song, "Trip Through Your Wires?" No? It was a damn good song. I plan to expand on this theme in the future.3. Very weird* Thou hast been warned.As always, tell me what y'all think. Your opinions are important, & I'm a ho for kudos.





	Danse Macabre

It was warm. That odd, in-between seasonal warmth... when the heat had been cut off, & the air had yet to be cut on. The humidity was appalling.

But, Imperator ruled over the thermostat with an iron hand, & it had always been so.

Her poor, damp Cardinal had been down over _something,_ (it really could be anything,) & had consumed over 3/4 of a bottle of vodka, pulled off his clothes, & promptly passed out. He was curled half on his side, hugging one of their big, plush pillows, with his black eye make-up running terribly.

She poured some coke over her rum. If he were awake, he'd be giving her a little grief... but, she liked rum. She liked coke. She really liked vanilla coke.

So... too bad.

She raised her glass, ice cubes clinking, to his pretty white ass.

He hadn't even tried to cover, well, anything.

Of course, the man had no modesty.

She sighed, pulling out a stick of dragon blood incense. She lit it, & breathed in happily. Nag champa was fine, but, it wasn't her favorite.

She sat in one of the big chairs, holding her drink on an upholstered arm, & contemplated cracking a window.

Maybe after the incense had burned down.

She reached for her slim cigarette case, left next to the bottle of rum... when he started to snore softly.

She giggled, completely to herself, of course. The poor thing was so out of it.

She tapped a black clove cigarette on the case, idly.

The top was etched with a snarling dragon, & Mt. Fuji in the background. It always made her smile.

She flicked her aluminum knock-off Zippo, a gaudy affair with a rose & tons of scrollwork.

She exhaled the spicy-sweet smoke through her nose & pondered.

Did she _really_ want to try this? Rumor had it that Cardi's pale eye enabled him to snoop around, uninvited, in other people's head-space.

She knew that the Third had never developed this particular talent. Not even now, moldering away down below in that makeshift dungeon-

The Second... Well, honestly. Who  _ever_ knew, with the Second?

That was one dangerous bastard.

Maybe Keebie knew. She _did_ wear his collar.

But, Dix knew better... on this subject, at least.

It was because he was nosferatu. And, he had made her so... (Thankfully. Talk about someone who had no clue what they were doing.)

She  had gotten into his head more than once, & it never turned out well.

Him, his poor wife & daughter during the plague had been a sensory overload that did not bear repeating.

She shuddered. He tended to focus on smells.

Vividly.

She didn't want to snoop. Chances were, it was one of his dead girls, lost friends, or, his mother's insistence that he assume the mantle of Supreme Leader that had sent him on his earlier bender.

She just wanted to give him something _else_ to think about.

* * *

He stood, mopping at his face with a soaked handkerchief.

"Why is it so goddamned, blasted hot?" he complained, his custom white suit stuck everywhere it possibly could be.

"It's the South, boy. What do you expect?"

He blinked. Since when did Zero sound like a southern Bible salesman?

Not to mention, the man had never called him "boy." Not ever.

"Maybe he should. You're too goddamn _soft."_ another voice snarled.

He turned slightly, & found himself eye-to-eye with the Second. He wore his civilian clothes, &, oddly, sunglasses at night.

Wait. It _was_ night, right?

"Yes, it's night, you bloody twit. How could I get _that_ wrong?"

He looked around, not having any idea of the time of day, as they were inside a tent.

A really big fucking tent. As if by divine providence, a small flap opened, offering a view of inky darkness. And, frogs.

He could hear frogs, enough to merit a plague-level event.

"It's the South, son. What do you expect?"

Okey-dokey. Weird. This was all fucking weird.

He looked a little closer at Zero. He sat in an old cane chair, as opposed to the wheelchair that he sometimes occupied, as of late.

"It's not _now."_ the Second snarled some more.

Zero did look quite a bit younger, not "young" by any stretch of the imagination, but, still...

"Papa-" he bent down to address the man, who smiled at him benignly, "Where in the name of Satan am I?"

The Second shook his head, & muttered that he was standing with the world's biggest idiot. Interestingly, the man wasn't sweating, & seemed cool as a cucumber.

"My son-" again with this. The Cardinal hadn't the foggiest what to do.

_'Just go with it!'_ a little voice echoed in the back of his mind.

His head snapped up, unsure what he was even looking for.

"This is an unholy revival." Zero continued, as if telling him the time of day.

"What?"

"Oh, yes. We're in Florida, but, it's the panhandle... so, basically, southern Alabama."

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

"Peanut?" Zero asked, holding out a wet paper bag.

"Dix. What do you think you're doing, Dix?"

The crowd parted before him. He'd give her credit, she'd conjured several interesting scenarios. There were beautiful women, naked under cloaks. The church's favored black candles were _everywhere..._

As in, "fire-hazard" everywhere.

People were having actual fits & speaking in tongues. He saw more than one idiot trying to communicate meaningfully with a venomous snake.

"Party Pooper."

He opened his mouth to scold her for inflicting a bad mixture of Monstrance Clock, Eyes Wide Shut, & Judas Priest on him, but, no words came.

"Oh, God."

She did a little twirl.

It was his Dix, but, not in any incarnation that he had ever known.

(And, that was a few. Some not even human.)

"What is this?" he gestured at her, vaguely horrified.

She looked down.

"A Catholic school girl's outfit... I know. I just started coming up with stuff on the fly."

"No, I don't-" he pinched his sweaty nose, "I don't give a shit about the costume, Dix. You know that."

"Oh." she looked down again. "Then, what's the matter?"

He was _this_ close to losing his shit.

"WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE FUCKING TWELVE?!"

"Oh." she said yet again. "Sorry. I was trying for more like 17."

"WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

She hitched a shoulder.

"Ugh. Just... fix this." he said, gesturing again, tiredly.

"What do you want?"

He saw the mist begin, not far from his white shoes.

An emerald-green hem appeared.

He did love her in green.

"You know, you don't have to do that. You're in my head. You can just *poof,* & make it so."

She pushed some hair behind one ear. She had it down, loose & wavy.

"I don't really know what I'm doing." she admitted.

"I know." he said, grasping her shoulders & bending to kiss her.

She tasted of cloves.

"What are you doing, succubus?"

But, he knew. It was really rather sweet, when she tried to distract him...

It never turned out quite right, but, that was beside the point.

He pushed her cloak open, & found, (not to his surprise,) her completely naked underneath.

"Better?" she asked mischievously.

"Yes. Yes... a million times yes."

She took his hand, & led him to a small stage.

"How are you not sweltering?" he asked, as she unfastened the phantom cloak.

"You drank too much, you silly man." she smiled, starting to remove his jacket.

"Yes, but it's still hot... Oh, that's better." he muttered.

"Hm. I _am_ soaking wet." she told him, unfastening his vest.

"Ohh, God. You know I can't do this-"

For all of his myriad kinks, any thought of either of his parents effectively killed his bravado.

But, the bulge in his pants said otherwise.

She pushed his black shirt open, & set to tonguing a little brown nipple. He moaned & tangled his fingers in her hair.

"I sent them far away." she finally told him. "Poof."

"Thank you."

He pulled off his gloves, then began to unfasten his pants. His cock tumbled out, & she smiled, going slowly down on to her knees.

He was chuckling, & trying to hide it.

"What?"

"You're in my head, making things up as you go, & you still have bad knees?"

She pouted.

* * *

"Dix-eee..." she heard in a sing-song voice. She felt a tickle along her jawline.

Moustache.

"Quit fingering yourself, Dix."

She blinked. She had scooted way down in the chair, one leg thrown over an arm. Her hand was, indeed, down her pants.

He loomed over her, one hand braced on each arm. He was still very naked, & now, extremely aroused. He seized her hand, & began to suck her wet fingers most inappropriately.

"Mmm. Finger-lickin' good."

She rolled her eyes.

"I will not be compared to chicken, you fucking weirdo."

"What's wrong with chicken? Wasn't there some song, years ago?"

"No. We are not going there."

"Hm." he eyed her red satin pajama pants, they were covered in a chinoiserie design. "You've been rather naughty."

"Naughty?" she sat up, offended. "I was trying to give you some nice dreams, you contrary old-"

"Stand up." he interrupted. He turned her around, & bent her over the chair when she complied. He began to grind against her backside. "Are these new pants?"

"Not particularly."

"Have I cum on them?"

She sighed.

"Not yet."

She'd already pulled the drawstring. He surprised her, pulling down both the pants & her cotton bikinis.

"Tell me what you want-" he rasped in her ear.

She thought, which was easier said than done, with him sliding rather insistently up & down her crack.

"Let's go outside."

"What?"

She turned, making little shooing motions.

"Outside."

He blinked. He hadn't expected _that._

Good.

He sort of wandered over to the windows, turning to catch her pulling off her t-shirt & sports bra. He began to play with himself.

She shook her head, grabbing an odd blanket before turning off most of the lights.

"Dark." he hissed.

"Oh, hush." she said, grabbing his spaghetti arm. "The moon's almost full."

"Witch."

He stood, obstinately doing his "immovable object" routine.

"Basil-" she used his name, long since buried. "Trust me."

He rolled his eyes a bit, before taking her hand & allowing her to lead him past the threshold.

He was so weird.

"This is so bad." he was looking around at all of the other windows surrounding the courtyard.

And getting overly excited, if twitching was any sort of indication.

The man did love a good show.

"If you just keep quiet, no one will ever know."

"I don't _like_ keeping quiet."

"It _was_ hot, back there... not to mention, smoky."

He watched appreciatively as she spread out the blanket.

"And who's fault was that?"

He carefully guided her on to her hands & knees... He couldn't help himself.

He began lightly poking all of his favorites. She indulged him for a good bit, until finally groaning, "Enough." & turning him to land on his butt.

He looked somewhat surprised as she climbed on to him.

"Honestly, darling. I think you just want to fuck."

She put a hand over his mouth. She played with him a bit, before impaling herself on him.

He moaned in ecstasy, letting her ride him for a minute before biting one of her fingers.

"Don't _do_ that." he warned her.

She nodded, words failing her.

Although she was riding him quite proficiently, he was still occasionally thrusting up into her.

"Oh, God!" she cried.

"No."

"What. Ever. It feels like you're hitting the very top of my innards."

"I hope so. That's what I'm going for..." he grinned. "Do go on. Nothing says sexy like _innards."_

"Ohhh- I can smell dancing & taste purple."

He laughed. It wasn't a nice, easy-going laugh, either. It was a godforsaken devil-laugh like at the end of "Faith."

He sat up, grabbing a hip with one hand, & pulling her down by the shoulder with the other.

"Too much. It's too much." she whimpered. Hundreds of years, & she still hadn't gotten used to his _rolling death orgasm(©)._

"Shh, shh- he nuzzled the edge of her ear. "Come for me, Dix. Finish both of us."

He began sucking a nipple, & she came completely apart at the seams.

He fell back, hands clenching in the blanket as he thrust desperately up into her. Her pussy devoured him greedily, & he got that tell-tale tingle behind his balls.

"Ohh- FUCK." he writhed beneath her. "Take. It. All." he snarled, ever the one for romance.

She honestly didn't care at that point. St. Peter was shaking his head at her, sadly.

"Dix?" he looked up at her, appearing vaguely stricken, himself. "Dix-eee..." back to the sing-song voice. He sat back up, wrapping himself around her & bombarding her with sweet little kisses. His cock slid out, & a bunch of his French custard ran down her leg.

She realized several of the windows now had lights on, & she heard a few "Ew's," "ugh's," & one very distinct "NICE!"

Okay, who was the pervert?

"Ti amo." he breathed softly in her ear, surprising her, as usual. "Ti amo, Ti amo, Ti amo..."

And, damned if she wasn't tempted to pull a Han Solo.

But, she would never.

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/TKesAnqdq8w
> 
> (I just noticed this thing was rather gratuitous/self-serving. Sorry 'bout that.)


End file.
